


The Fastest Clock In The Universe (Is Love)

by Polomonkey



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Theatre, Contains Fanart, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Shyness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 20:32:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5679766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/pseuds/Polomonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin loves his fans but sometimes meeting them at stage door is more than he can handle. Luckily friendly doorman Arthur is there to help out...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fastest Clock In The Universe (Is Love)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RedQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedQueen/gifts).



> The delightful RedQueen gave me a celebrity/fan fic au prompt and then drew some gorgeous art for it [here!](http://le-red-queen.tumblr.com/post/134629725175/eeee-i-love-it-when-you-do-these-33) I've embedded it with kind permission :)
> 
> The play Merlin's supposed to be in is Philip Ridley's The Fastest Clock in the Universe and I would literally kill to see Colin in it *starts petition*

The thing is, Merlin’s shy. Onstage he can play manic and restless; soft and sweet; dark and mean. Onstage he can be a charlatan or a seducer, a Romeo or a homicidal maniac.

But in real life…

He’s shy. Like, extremely shy. Like stammering, blushing, can’t make eye contact shy.

And it’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the crowds of fans gathered outside the stage door, it’s just the thought of actually going out to greet them makes panic rise in his throat. Especially when they start shouting his name and all the camera flashes go off at once and he feels a bit like a deer in the headlights.

Or a rabbit. A very tiny rabbit that’s liable to be run over any minute.

But he goes out anyway. Because he loves the fans and he owes it to them and it feels like it’s the least he can do when they’ve paid all that money to see him. Until one Saturday night when the crowd’s been particularly boisterous and Merlin’s drained from doing two shows in a day, and suddenly he can’t quite face it. He hovers indecisively outside the door till he can hear his co-star Mordred coming up the corridor. He doesn’t want to have to explain himself so he ducks on impulse behind the counter at stage door, folding himself up to sit on the floor behind the desk.

He hears Mordred go out and the cheer that greets him (unlike Merlin, Mordred positively lives for meeting the fans, bless him). He breathes a sigh of relief and flops back against the wall. All he has to do now is wait it out for a while.

Then he hears a very gentle cough and freezes.

Barely two metres away, tucked inside an alcove on an office chair is a blond haired man sporting a vaguely bemused expression.

“You alright down there?”

  
  
[](http://imgur.com/QicZPWM)  


_I can explain_ is what Merlin wants to say but his words dry up in his throat, and God this is so stupid, how can he be this painfully awkward when he’s in one of the most extroverted professions there is?

He gives a sort of helpless shrug and the man’s face softens.

“Okay. Feel free to stick around then. I’m Arthur by the way, I’m working stage door tonight.”

Merlin looks at him blankly. Gaius works stage door, a self-described “friendly old fruit” who always manages to put Merlin at his ease, even when he can’t string a greeting together.

Arthur must see his look.

“I’m new. First night.”

“Right,” Merlin manages to croak out.

There’s a silence, and Merlin wonders how the hell he’s going to get out of this one; if it’s possible to stand up and walk out of here with even the tiniest part of his dignity intact.

“So… um… I think they’re waiting for you out there,” Arthur says.

Merlin’s stomach drops a little.

“Yeah,” he says, clumsily making to stand up. “I b-better go.”

“Wait! I wasn’t trying… you don’t have to,” Arthur says quickly. He gives Merlin a quick appraising glance, and something seems to slot in place for him.

“Were you avoiding going out? Is that why you came behind here?”

Merlin flushes hot with shame. It sounds so churlish when Arthur says it, so ungrateful. How could he hide from the fans like that? What’s wrong with him?

He ducks his head in misery, and is nothing less than shocked when he feels a pat on his arm.

“It’s fine if you are,” Arthur says gently. “It’s quite… erm, I would find it intimidating.”

Merlin isn’t sure that Arthur would but he appreciates the sentiment. The clench in his chest eases slightly.

“It’s just a bit… overwhelming,” he says at last, glad that his voice doesn’t quaver.

“So stay here then,” Arthur says simply. “I’ll watch the CCTV; tell you when you’re good to go.”

Merlin nods, grateful. They sit in companionable silence for a bit, until Merlin finally plucks up the courage to speak.

“So. You like the job so far?”

“Yeah I do,” Arthur says, sounding surprisingly enthusiastic. “I’ve been ushering at Les Mis the last eight months and like… there’s only so many times you can see that show before you start to wish they’d shut up about their damn revolution and leave you in peace.”

“So you’ve basically become Javert,” Merlin says, and Arthur laughs.

Merlin feels an odd sense of gratification. He can usually only make people laugh when he’s onstage. And that doesn’t feel real like this does.

“Did you watch the show tonight?” he asks, suddenly hoping that Arthur liked it.

“Yeah! It was… intense. Like, good intense. I think I was shaking a bit by the end.”

Merlin can see that Arthur means it and a warm pulse of happiness floods through him. He loves the play too, he begged his agent to get him an audition for this one, and every night onstage he feels the same thrill of excitement that he did when he first read it.

“I really like it,” he says shyly, because it feels funny to praise a play you’re in, like tooting your own horn. But Merlin doesn’t love it because he’s in it, he loves it because it’s dark and strange and exciting, and he knows he’s only a small part of all that.

“Yeah, you should.”

A shout from outside filters through and Arthur glances at the screen.

“Mord’s having a good time,” Merlin says.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but like… you two are the total opposite of your characters.”

Merlin laughs. His character is a vicious predatory narcissist and Mordred’s is a sweet but dim schoolboy, so he doesn’t think either of them can be offended by that.

“Thank God,” he says. Then, emboldened: “What was your favourite bit?”

“The knife in the table was cool. And all the Sherbert bits. And um…”

To Merlin’s surprise, Arthur blushes a little.

“The bit on the couch,” he mutters.

Merlin starts. He knows exactly what Arthur’s talking about; it’s the bit where he gives Mordred a sneaky handjob on the couch while his girlfriend chats obliviously across the room.

He thinks he should be embarrassed but for whatever reason he’s not. He grins instead.

“What was it about that particular bit that grabbed you? The staging? The direction? Were you impressed with the mise-en-scène?”

“I thought it was really well lit,” Arthur says solidly, and then they both start sniggering.

Somehow after that Merlin forgets to be nervous. They chat for nearly another hour, long after the crowds have dispersed, and Merlin’s never felt less shy in his life. He doesn’t know why he feels relaxed around Arthur but he just does, he can’t really explain it.

They eventually have to make a move when Arthur locks up for the night.

“If you ever need a hiding place again…” Arthur says as they walk out onto the street.

“Thanks but I should probably go back out there on Monday,” Merlin says. “The fans are the reason I’m here after all.”

“So would you ever date one?”

“A fan?” Merlin says, surprised. “I don’t know. I don’t think so?”

“Oh. So I’ll have to pretend I’m not a fan then,” Arthur says, and it takes Merlin’s brain quite a few seconds to catch up.

“Are you… are you…”

Arthur smiles.

“Can I take you out for dinner tomorrow?”

Merlin smiles back, suddenly feeling lighter than air.

“Well that depends. Are you a fan?”

“Oh God no,” Arthur says promptly. “I think you’re shit.”

Then they’re off sniggering again, jostling up against each other as they walk down the road, taking each other’s hand like it’s something completely natural and easy.

The next night at dinner, two teenage girls come up to ask politely for a photo. Merlin poses with them happily. When Arthur’s smiling across the table at him, he doesn’t feel shy at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! And check out the rest of RedQueen's lovely art [here!](http://gj-fangirls.tumblr.com/)


End file.
